


Erotic Marvel One-Shots F!Reader

by BigBandBombshell



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Erotica, I'm not going to tag all the naughty stuff, Other, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6723235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigBandBombshell/pseuds/BigBandBombshell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do you need a little hot and heavy with your favorite Marvel character? Then take a stroll through this series of one-shots where the world's mightiest heroes (and a few of their friends) let loose and show their wilder side. **These one-shots are PRONOUN FREE. The "F" and "M" in the titles refer to the genitalia of the reader's character. These fics are also as racially and body-type neutral as I could make them. They feature clear lines of consent and - aside from anatomical differences - are the same for both "F" Reader and "M" Reader. Enjoy!**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve Rogers/Captain America

“Steve doesn't hate you,” Wanda says softly.

“It's been a week, Wanda,” you grumble back. The two of you sway against your seats at the back of the quinjet as Natasha brings you around for a landing.

“You said the date went well,” Wanda says. “He's not going to be happy on your date and then hate you a week later.”

“I could've been wrong. It wouldn't be the first time.” You glance up to where Steve is sitting in the copilot's seat. “He hasn't said more than five consecutive words to me since we left for the mission.”

“Maybe it's just mission fatigue,” Wanda suggests. You feel her extend a brush of calm against your mind and give her a small smile of thanks.

“He's been normal with everyone else. Just not me,” you say. “Maybe he doesn’t think team members should date after all.r.”

“He doesn't seem to mind Clint and Natasha,” Wanda points out.

“I don't think they would care if he did. They're kind of stubborn like that,” you reply.

“True.” She cocks her head to the side thoughtfully, then shrugs. “The only way you're going to find out is if you talk to him.”

“I will,” you reply. “As soon as I think I can face down the mortification.”

You look back at Steve once more and feel a blush heat your cheeks when you meet his eyes. Neither of you move for a moment, and then you give him a small smile. He blinks once, then turns back to the control panel in front of him.

“We're coming in to land,” his voice comes over the team's earpieces and more than one person sighs with relief. Long missions weren't that common and you were all ready to unwind after a week in the field.

“Talk to him,” Wanda murmurs. You give her a dry look and she shrugs. The doors open behind her and the two of you step out just as the quinjet touches down. Pietro speeds past you in a cold rush of wind and then he and Wanda are gone.

“Home sweet home,” Clint says. He gives you a smile as he trudges past, quiver dangling from one hand. Natasha comes up on your right and slings an arm around Clint's waist, then gives you a nod of farewell. You can't help the ripple of jealousy that turns your stomach as you watch them go.

“, can you return to the jet?” Steve's voice in your ear makes you cringe. You sigh and squeeze your eyes shut, your heart suddenly racing in your chest. The rest of the team moves into the tower without looking back and you hope that Steve at least had the courtesy to use your private channel for the call back. You didn't want them to share in the shame that you were about to feel.

Steve is the only one in the jet when you step back on board. He leans against the back of the copilot's chair and you squash an aggressive appreciation for the way his arms look when he crosses them over his chest.

“You called, Cap?” You stop a few feet away and cross your arms over your chest. For a moment you think you might throw up as a small wave of panic laps at the back of your brain. Wanda might be able to read minds, but even she didn't know how much you feared the disdain of someone you cared about.

“You did well this week, on the mission,” he says. His eyes glitter in the cabin lights and you nod as you take a deep breath to calm your nerves and try to ignore the twinkling baby blues.

“Thank you.” 

You shift your weight from foot to foot as silence grows between you. Steve shifts his position and clears his throat.

“Things are... strange... between us right now,” he begins. You give a small nod and drop your gaze to his boots, hoping you don't cry. “I don't know what happened, but I want to fix it.”

A humorless laugh of surprise slips past your lips and you bite them to keep another one from following.

“I don't know what happened either,” you say as you look up at him. “You asked me to dinner and then stop talking to me. Did I... did I do something?” Surprise crosses Steve's face before a frown settles in place.

“I didn't stop talking to you, ,” he says. “You seemed tense and I thought maybe you regretted the date. So I gave you space.”

“I wasn't tense until you started using 'five words or fewer' as the rule when you talked to me,” you say. “We've been in the field a week and you managed to find time to chat with Bucky or Wanda or Natasha. But the couple of times I tried to talk to you, you found somewhere else to be.”

“I thought,” Steve trails off and shakes his head. “I don't know what I thought. Maybe that you wanted to let me down gently, or that whatever this is,” he waves a hand through the space between the two of you, “didn't belong on a mission.”

“So you... you don't regret the date?” It rings hollow, but it's the only thing you can think to say.

“God, no.” Steve snorts a small laugh and shakes his head. He pushes off the chair and takes a few steps towards you. “I like you, . I'm sorry if I made you think I didn't.” You look up at him as a hesitant smile tugs at your mouth.

“I like you too,” you say. “But next time we're on a mission, could you act like it a little more? I mean, don't do anything stupid. But at least treat me like you do the rest of the team.”

Steve blushes and looks away for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair as the other drops to his hip.

“I'm not very good at showing a lady how I feel,” he says. “Not much call for it before the freeze and not much time since. I get quiet because it's... it's just easier.” His expression is guarded when he looks back at you. “I didn't mean to seem cold.” You let guilt build in your chest for a moment, then push it away. He's only a few steps from you and you close the gap, then slip your arms around his waist and press your lips to his. Your date had ended with a cordial “good night” and nothing else, so you take your time with this first kiss. Warm and smooth as velvet, though stiff at first. But when he recovers from his surprise his lips soften and press against yours as his arms pull you in closer. His body presses against yours, radiating heat like a sun made human.

You expect him to pull back and he surprises you when one hand tangles in your hair and his lips coax yours apart. His self-restraint vanishes in bits and pieces until his arms are like steel around you and his lips are hard against yours. The kiss becomes something hot and hungry and all at once you become aware that Captain America is pressing a hardness into your thigh that had not been there a moment ago. You pull back and hear him hiss sharply when you shift your thigh against his.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs. Your vision seems hazy when you look up at him and you smile.

“I'm not,” you reply. You run one hand through his hair and trail the other down his chest.

“I just... I shouldn't have...”

“Stop,” you say. You place a finger against his lips and press a kiss into the edge of his jaw. “I don't know how things worked in the 40's, but I would have invited you in after dinner if you'd given me a chance.” Nerves flutter in your chest and you force yourself to keep your breathing even. You can handle a shoot out without blinking, but uncertainty gets you every time you look at Steve

“You... you would have?” He asks. You nod and remove your finger from his lips. Your hands settle on the buckle of his suit and you take a deep, steadying breath. Your nerves are rattled but his kiss had renewed some of the confidence you'd felt in his attraction to you.

“I still want to,” you murmur. Your fingers work the buckle at his waist until it pops open in your fingers.

“,” Steve growls. You look up, confidence fading. And then you see the look in his eyes. They gleam with a hunger you've never seen there before and it sends a shiver up your spine. “I can't... I mean we haven't even... I don't know.” He places his hands over yours but makes no move to pull them away.

“We don't have to figure out what we are, not right now,” you say. “But after the confusion this week and the stress and that god-awful mission, I know what I want.” You step close and whisper your next words in his ear.

“I want you inside of me.”

The words seem to end whatever confusion Steve has been battling and he backs you into the wall of the jet. His hands take hold of either side of your face as his lips claim yours in a kiss so fierce it made the last seem tame. It’s almost painful, but you press back against him and make sure he feels your hunger. He fumbles overhead for a moment, then the exit ramp retracts and raises, sealing the the two of you into the jet. You arch your back and slide your thigh between his legs, shivering when you realize how muscled he really is.

“Are you sure about this?” He's breathless when he pulls back. You nod and grab him by the collar, dragging his mouth back to yours. Your lips sting with the pressure of the kiss and you whimper into his mouth. His cock twitches against your leg and you whimper again.

He pulls back once more but doesn't say a word. His fingers go to the buckle on the front of your suit and fumble there for a moment. It confounds him until he curses under his breath and breaks it apart in a shower of pieces.

“Tony'll fix it,” he assures you. You can only stare at the ruined buckle. Your heart rate has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with the knowledge of what Steve could do to your suit.

“Why stop at the buckle?” You manage. Steve pauses and looks at you. You can almost pinpoint the moment he realizes what you want.

“Are you sure?” He arches a brow at you and you nod quickly.

“I've got more suits,” you reply. He bundles two fist fulls of material and leans in close.

“I'd like to ruin them too,” he whispers softly. You groan as he gives a hard tug and two holes open in the front of your suit. He pulls at the remaining shreds until you're nude from the waist up. His hands palm your breasts and you whimper as his thumbs rub across your nipples.

“Don't tease me,” you groan. “I need you inside of me.” He ignores you for a breath, then lets your breasts fall once more. You watch as he strips his suit off and throws it against the other side of the jet. His hands go to your waist and within moments your pants are in tatters around your feet.

His lips crash into yours and you slip your hands down his body until they trail along the length of his cock. It almost burns under your fingers and you grip it gently. He groans as you pump your fist down his length and you smirk into the kiss before pulling away.

“Fuck me, Captain,” you whisper into his ear. “I need you to fuck me.” His hands grip your thighs and hoist them up around his waist as his weight pins you to the wall. You gasp and he grins at you.

“Move your hand,” he says. You release his cock reluctantly and wrap your arms around his neck. His hand slips between your bodies and you gasp as his fingers brush your clit. He grinds his fingertips into you for a moment and you press your face into the crook of his neck, teeth nipping at his flesh. His hips buck up into you and you groan as you feel his tip brush your lips.

“Please, Steve.” You breathe his name and feel him shudder against you. He grabs your thighs with both hands and shifts you against the wall of the jet until the head of his cock nudges against your entrance. You look up at him and give him a small nod. Neither of you looks away as he pulls down on your hips.

Your breath freezes in your chest as you feel the head of his cock spread your lips and slide inside. Your body aches for more and you wriggle to encourage him but Steve holds you still in his arms. He nudges your head aside with his chin, then begins a warm trail of nibbling kisses up your neck as he lowers you onto his shaft with infuriating control. You whimper and tighten your arms around him, but he continues his slow pace until you finally feel him seat his cock entirely inside your body.

“God,” Steve groans in your ear. “You feel so good.” His mouth leaves burning marks up the side of your neck until you turn you head and catch his mouth against yours. You flex yourself around him and feel the air rush out of him when he groans against your mouth. The sound brings a smug smile to your face, until he pulls you away from the wall and lays you on the bench running along the jet's far side. He gets his knees under him and begins to thrust as his weight pins you to the seat. Your moans echo in the small space and you wrap your legs around his waist.

“Faster,” you whisper. Steve tangles one hand in your hair as his hips begin a rough, almost bruising rhythm.

Every thrust is a hot, filling ache between your thighs and you arch your back as pressure builds behind your hips. You slide one hand down and hiss when your fingers find your clit. Steve pauses long enough for your hand to find the perfect spot and then he's pinning you to the seat as his speed increases.

“Shit,” he hisses. His cock twitches inside you as his speed increases. You slide your hand around the back of his neck and tug his mouth to your nipple as darkness creeps into the edge of your vision. His tongue cradles your nipple as he begins to suckle and it's finally one more stimulation than you can take. You scream his name as your muscles clench around him and your thighs lock him against your body. You feel his attention to your nipple falter and then fail as wet warmth explodes in your core and his hips grind into yours, all rhythm lost.

Groans and gasps echo back as you both go still, his arms braced on either side of your head. He lifts his mouth from your breast and his dazed eyes meet yours.

“,” he whispers. He kisses you gently, almost hesitantly. You press back with an echo of the earlier hunger, your hand cradling the back of his head tenderly.

“You're amazing,” you say. He rests his head in the crook of your shoulder and slowly pulls free from your legs. Neither of you speaks as you clean yourselves up, even when Steve hands you a spare set of clothes from the stock kept in the jet. You try to smile as you take them from him but his eyes are focused over your head.

“You're doing it again,” you say quietly.

“Doing what?” Steve asks. He's cleaned up the last trace of your coupling and now sits on the same bench, elbows on his knees.

“You're going cold,” you reply. “Do you regret it?”

“No,” he says sharply. “I just... I wanted to get to know you more before we.. I don't want you to think...”

You kneel before him and lift his chin up with both hands.

“I wanted this,” you say firmly. “And I want to keep doing it. And keep going to dinner, and keep figuring out where this can go.”

“I do too,” he says quietly.

“Then stop worrying about whether or not this was okay, because it was.” You smile at him and wait until he smiles back. “Just stop going cold on me, okay? My nerves can't handle that.” He wraps his arms around you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I'll work on it, just for you.”


	2. Natasha Romanov/Black Widow

“It was, uh, sweet of you to ask me out to dinner on such short notice.” You smile at Natasha across the table. The waiter steps up with two plates of dessert and you fall silent while Natasha thanks him.

“It's my pleasure,” she says. She smiles at you then takes a bit of her dessert. You turn your attention to your own plate and neither of you says another word until the waiter returns and clears the empty dishes away. Natasha waits a moment, then slowly rises from her chair and gathers her clutch from the table.

“I'm new to fine dining and all that, but don't we have to pay?” You glance around at the wait staff, but nobody pays Natasha any mind as she motions you to follow her to the exit.

“They have my payment information,” she says. “It'd cheapen the place to have people paying at the table.”

“Well la-di-da,” you mumble under your breath. She throws you an indulgent smile, then requests your coats from an attendant near the exit. You hang back until she motions you forward to take the coat.

“You're not normally this shy,” she smiles at you as you shrug into your coat.

“I'm not normally in New York for lunch and Paris for dinner. You do know I don't speak French, right?”

Natasha waves one hand at you and links her arm through yours.

“I took care of everything, didn't I?” She presses her side against yours as the two of you stroll down the street.

“Well, yeah,” you say with a nod.

“And dinner was amazing,” she presses. You nod and give her a half-smile.

“So it's not so bad to be whisked off.” She lays her head on your shoulder for a moment, then tugs you around a corner.

“I still don't know how you managed to get clearance for the jet on such short notice,” you say. Natasha pulls a small card from her clutch and presses her finger against it. The quinjet ripples into view a moment later and the rear hatch lowers without a sound.

“I lied to Fury,” she says with a casual shrug. You watch her walk up the jet's ramp, hips swinging, and rub your eyes. They feel heavy, but you roll your shoulders and follow Natasha up the ramp after a moment. The last thing you need is for Natasha to know you haven't been sleeping, or that your nightmares have been getting worse.

“What lie did you sell him?” You ask as you slip into the copilot's seat. Natasha smirks at you then returns to working the controls.

“Does it really matter?” She shoots back. You shrug and lean back against the seat.

A few moments later the jet is speeding away from Paris, back towards the Avengers Tower in New York. Natasha keeps her hands on the controls until the craft is over the ocean, then she sets the autopilot.

“So are you going to tell me what's going on or do I have to drag it out of you?” She turns to you and leans forward in her seat. You stare at her for a moment, then slowly shake your head.

“I...” You trail off when she arches her brow at you. You bite your lip, then sigh. Lying to her now would be pointless and you both know it. “I haven't been sleeping lately. It's like I lay down to get some sleep and then all this restless energy comes out of nowhere.”

“Have you tried burning it off?” She places one hand over yours and squeezes gently. You turn your hand over so you can interlace your fingers with hers and nod.

“I spent the first few nights cleaning my apartment,” you say. “The next few I went to the gym. I wore myself out eventually, but I'm only getting a couple hours sleep a night.” You look up into her eyes and frown. “Nat, if we get called on a mission... I'm a liability.”

“Then we'll just have to fix your problem,” she says. She stands up and tugs on your hand, but you pull your fingers free and shake your head.

“I've tried everything. Nothing wears me out fast enough, deep enough.”

“You haven't tried me,” she murmurs. You look up, eyes wide. She takes your hand in hers again, then lowers herself into your lap. Her free hand cups your cheek as she slants her mouth across yours. You breathe in sharply and her perfume floods your senses, more delicious than any smell you can remember right that moment. You free arm slides around her waist and you pull her closer as she releases your hand and runs her fingers up into your hair. She tugs gently and you groan against her lips.

“Nat,” you whisper as you pull back. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” she whispers back. She slides from you lap and beckons you into the back of the jet. You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths before you follow her.

Nat pulls the emergency bed rolls out of a side panel and throws them open, then pads the floor with them. She kicks off her heels and advances on you, her movements fluid with grace in the way only dancers and stalking cats can move. Her hands find your hips and she presses her lips to yours once more as her fingers slip around, finding the fasteners for your clothes. They fly open under her attention and she steps back with a smirk.

“Take your clothes off,” she says softly. You rush to obey, fingers shaking as they tug and push at the fabric. You shiver in the cool air as your last garment falls away and Nat guides you to the blankets lying on the floor. The two of you kneel facing one another and she runs her hands over your belly, then up to cup your breasts. Her thumbs brush your nipples and you gasp, then tangle your fingers in her hair and drag her mouth to yours. She groans as you nip at her lip, then opens her mouth to you. She tastes like wine and expensive chocolate and you take your time with the kiss. You don't move away until her hands go still on your breasts and she shivers in your hands. Only then are you satisfied.

“Lay back,” she murmurs. You pull her with you as you lay back, your legs interlocked with hers. She kisses you gently, then slides her lips to the corner of your mouth. Your cheek, your jaw, your neck. Her lips leave a line of fire as she moves down and your nipples ache in anticipation. They peak in the cold air and it's like fire when she finally closes her mouth around one of them. Your back arches and you groan into the silence of the jet as your hands twine through her hair.

She sucks gently at first, then nips your flesh with her teeth. You hiss and she drags her tongue over the stinging flesh. You briefly think about a widow's bite, but the thought slips back into the darkness as Natasha releases your nipple to take the other in her mouth.

“Nat,” you whine. You feel her smile against your flesh and her hand begins to dance down between your legs. She shifts off you until she lays at your side, one arm under your neck to hold you close as she sucks at your breast. Her other hand brushes the wetness between your thighs, making you moan. She releases your nipple and captures your gaze with her as she parts your lips with two fingers and slowly slides one inside. Your hips buck as her fingertips press against you.

“You're so wet,” she says with a small smirk. You answer by pulling her mouth to yours once more. The fabric of her dress chafes your skin as she presses against you, one hand slowly working between your thighs until the heel of her hand presses down against your clit. You shiver though you can't feel the cold any more.

“You're wearing too many clothes,” you mumble as Natasha pulls back. She smiles at you and presses a soft kiss to your swollen lips, then slides her arm from beneath your neck. You whimper as her fingers slide from you, though the sound chokes off as you watch her slowly slide those same fingers into her mouth and slowly lick them clean. Then she stand with the same teasing slowness.

Her dress falls to the floor a moment later, followed by lingerie that you would have relished peeling from her inch by inch if you weren't already shivering for her touch. She stands over you, pale skin nearly glowing in the moonlight pouring through the jet's front window. You hold one hand out to her and she take it, but she does not lay down beside you. You sit up as she moves to the bottom edge of the blankets and kneels, then lays herself down between your legs.

“Natasha...” You drag her name out and she gives you the heavy-lidded look she only gives you when you're alone in your apartment.

“Lay back,” she says as she releases your hand. Her voice is hard and leaves no room for challenge. You lay back against the blankets and feel her slide her shoulders under your thighs, spreading your legs further apart. Her hands wrap around your thighs as she begins to press kisses to one thigh, then the other. She moves closer to your center, kiss by kiss, and you fist your hands in the blankets as your breath begins to come in small, harsh pants.

“Do you want me to lick you?” Her voice is soft but clear and you lick your lips before you answer.

“More than anything,” you reply. She nips at one lip, then the other, but there is no pain behind the action. You whimper despite that, hips bucking before you can stop them. She releases one thigh and drags a finger up the length of your lips, then slowly presses it between them. You grit your teeth as she slides it in, then out, her motions unbearable in their slow and deliberate torture.

“Please,” you beg. “Please fuck me with your tongue.”

“No,” she replies softly. Her finger begins to move faster, and a second slides inside of you on the next in thrust. Heat builds in your belly as she works her hand inside of you, her thumb pressing just above your clit. You feel yourself flutter around her hand, your fingers tensing as an orgasm slowly builds in your core. You hover over the edge, ready to scream Natasha's name as you cum.

And then she draws her fingers from you. She rests them on your thigh and presses gently kisses to your belly. You cry out in frustration and go up on your elbows to look down at her.

“Please, Nat,” you beg. She only looks at you and nods for you to lay back. You lick you lips and lay back, your mouth dry from the panting breaths her attentions had reduced you to. The fire dulls inside of you and you sigh. Natasha knows you, knows your sounds. And the moment you sigh she slides two fingers inside of you once more. You clamp down around her fingers and groan until the sound echoes back to you off the walls of the jet. She quickens her pace, stoking the fire back up to the peak within moments. She adds a third finger and you arch your back to drive them deeper between your legs. You close in on your release, but Natasha withdraws again.

“Damn it!” You cry out in frustration. Natasha presses her hand to your belly and returns to kissing your thighs, her mouth a breath from where you ache to feel her tongue.

She waits until you calm once more, then traces her fingers over your lips. You open your mouth to beg her again, for all the good it will do, but the words die in your throat as you feel her slide four fingers inside of you as her tongue begins to lash your clit. Your thighs tighten around her head and pull her closer but she only draws her tongue back to flutter the tip over the nub of nerves.

Your orgasm rips you apart and plunges you into a dark, breathless place. You can feel her between your legs, but her tongue keeps you cumming. Two orgasms roll through you before you begin to see light again. A third washes you away before you can reach it, and you give yourself over to Natasha entirely. She only stops when your body has gone limp against the blankets. Your thighs feel like stone as she slides free and crawls up to lie beside you. She drags the last free blanket over the two of you and pulls you into her arms as you let the darkness pull you in.

She wakes you sometime later and helps you dress before the jet lands. Attendants take over as she leads you out and keys in the code for her apartments. You try and shake the sleep from your head, but it clings tight. Natasha undresses you in the quiet of her room and slips you into bed. You feel her hair against your cheek as she curls against you before you fall back into darkness.


	3. Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier

The wind is bitter out on the balcony, but you don't care. You pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders and turn you face into the wind, willing it to keep you awake. Sirens scream by on the streets below and you have to stop your mind from imagining what kinds of scenes the first responders are heading to. You've seen enough death and grief in your time with the Avengers. You don't need to shoulder the imagined burdens of the local police too.

“You're going to catch pneumonia out here,” his voice is soft in your ear, but you jump all the same. He wraps his arms around you and your heart rate slows almost immediately. You didn't even realize how cold you were until you feel that the metal of his arm is warm against your cheek.

“I've told you before, that's not how you get pneumonia.” You turn your face into his other arm and breathe in the scent of his skin. It comforts you and for a moment you feel yourself drawn towards sleep. You fight the urge and sit up straighter on the chair.

“Old habits,” he says with a shrug. “Pneumonia or no, you should come back to bed.”

You want to, and you almost tell him so. But you're so tired of the nightmares. Of waking up in terror, groping for him in the darkness to make sure he's still there and he's still breathing.

“I can't,” you finally manage.

“Still with the nightmares?” He comes around to kneel in front of you and you nod slowly. 

“They won't stop,” you say. You can feel tears creeping into your voice and frown as you choke them back. “I've talked to Nat, I've had Wanda take a look in my head. I even asked Bruce if he had any good tips for pushing the bad stuff away. Nothing is working.”

“So you're going to sit out here and freeze instead?” He frowns at you and you feel a blush of shame warm your cheeks.

“At least it keeps me awake. I got some stims from the docs on base, but I can only take so many in a day. I figure if I wear myself out enough, the dreams won't wake me up.”

He's silent for a moment, and then his frown slowly deepens.

“That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard,” he says. “You're more likely to die of heart failure than stop these nightmares.”

“I don't know what else to do, Buck.” This time the tears won't be held back and they begin to roll warmly down your cheeks. “I can't keep waking up every few hours choking on a scream. What happens when you're on a mission? You can't make them go away when you're not here.”

“That's why you need to let me help you now, while I am here.” He stands up and tries to pull you to your feet. You fight him for a moment but he's strong enough that it doesn't matter. He picks you up, blanket and all, and carries you back inside. The door rattles as he kicks it closed and you glance back in fear he's broken the glass, but the door is intact.

“How are you going to help?” You ask. “I've seen therapists, telepaths, the works. Nothing has helped. I'm just not made to be an Avenger. I can't handle the fallout.” Your breath rushes out of you as he drops you onto the bed. 

“You can handle anything,” he says softly. “You handle me.”

“You mostly take care of yourself,” you say.

“I've learned a few coping tricks over the years,” he admits. He slowly unwraps your blanket and lays it flat on the bed. You shiver as the warm bedroom air meets your chilled skin. His fingers creep down to your socks and pull them off slowly. 

“What are you doing?” Suspicion creeps into your voice but Bucky only gives you a wide-eyed look of innocence.

“I'm just trying to warm you up, darlin'.” He rubs your stiff feet for a moment, then slides up the length of your body. 

“I'm sensing an ulterior motive, sergeant.” You push up onto your elbows and arch an eyebrow at him. He looks at you with the cold, neutral expression he usually reserves for the field and you felt a new kind of shiver roll down your spine.

“I love you, {yn}. I can't make the nightmares go away right now, but I can think of a better way to exhaust you than freezing while you overdose on stimulants.”

“I love you too,” you say. You cup his face with your palm but he surges forward and your hand slides down to his ribs as he pushes you on your back.

“You're going to let me take care of you,” he says. “And that's an order.”

“You don't outrank me, sergeant,” you reply. Your mind has no trouble ignoring gruesome thoughts, at least for the moment. It has focused squarely on the commanding tone in Bucky's voice.

“Right now, I surely do.”

He kisses you and it's not gentle. It is deep and hard and hot and your breath catches in your throat. His lips open yours and he tastes you with a possession you've rarely seen in him before. 

“Bucky...” You manage his name in a whisper when he pulls back, but your breath rushes out when his teeth graze your collar bone. 

“Take your shirt off.” He growls the words into your flesh and then pulls back to untie the drawstring of your pajama pants. You arch your back and pull the shirt over your head fast enough that you're sure you hear a seam rip. He shifts your hips until he slides your pants off, panties close behind. Your nipples are still hard from the cold air and his mouth is searing hot when it closes around one. He flicks his tongue against the bud so fast that you can barely tell when one lash ends and the next begins.

“Bucky,” you moan his name this time. He growls against your breast and then switches his mouth to the other side. The air is suddenly cold against the wetness of your freed nipple and you cover it with your fingers, only to pinch and twist it gently as his tongue works against your other breast.

“I need you,” you whine. You feel him smile against your breast and you arch your hips up for emphasis. He pulls away and sits up, his hands pushing you back to the bed as he begins to play with both nipples at once.

“You'll have me,” he says. “But it's not going to be fast. I want to wear you out make sure you don't do anything stupid when I'm not here.” You frown at him and he slants his mouth across yours. 

Your hips roll up again and he parts your thighs with his knee. The friction is delicious against the building ache between your legs and you grind against him in hard, slow rolls. 

“Slowly, darlin'.” He purrs the words in your ear and you groan softly. His hands slide down your body until you feel the slick metal of his left hand slide over your folds. 

“Please,” you groan. “Please don't make me ask again.”

“Patience,” he scolds. “Trust me to take care of you.” You fall silent and the sounds of your heavy breathing fill the bedroom. Another softer sound slides in beneath it and you flush when you realize it is the sound of his hand against your flesh.

“You're so wet,” he murmurs in your ear. “I think I'll make a habit of putting you to sleep this way more often.”

“Oh god,” you gasp. The idea is both exhilarating and daunting but you're not going to tell him that. His appetites suited yours well, but his stamina sometimes got away from him. In the back of your mind, you knew you were hoping tonight would be one of those nights.

“I want you to keep those gorgeous hips on the bed for me. Can you do that?” He pushes up onto one elbow and smirks down at you.

“I think so,” you say. You lean up to try and kiss him, but he holds himself back from you.

“Good,” he says. You press yourself to the mattress and feel a tremble of impatience roll up from your belly as he rubs his fingers along your wet lips.

The groan you let out when he finally slides his fingers inside of you echoes in your ears. You're not usually a loud person, but in that moment you're sure the entire tower can hear you. Bucky doesn't say a word  
as he works his fingers deeper. He watches your face as you squeeze your eyes shut in a fit of pleasure, cheeks burning hot. Your hands grip his biceps and the taught muscles under your fingers only adds to your arousal.

“Fuck me,” you plead. He leans close as his fingers begin to move in, then out.

“Not yet,” he answers. You growl low in your throat as he sets a steady rhythm and your hips ache to arch up into his hand. You feel him shift and then the heel of his hand presses to your clit. Your reaction is immediate as you yelp and your hips buck up despite your promises. He only chuckles and moves his hand in a slow circle, the tips of his fingers just inside your entrance and the heel rubbing the small nerve bundle until you're shaking beneath him. 

“Tease,” you manage. He chuckles again and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Only because you love it,” he replies. You don't answer, too focused on trying to keep your hips from bucking up into his hand again. He keeps his penetration shallow for a few more moments, then thrusts his fingers in deep. You cry out even louder than before.

“I love it when you get loud,” he rumbles. His voice has lost it's calm and you look up at him with a grin.

“I can get even louder,” you tease. “If you'd just fuck me already.”

“Not yet,” he says. He kisses you once more, then grabs your pillow and slides down so he can watch his fingers as they move between your thighs. He folds your pillow without breaking his rhythm.

“Lift your hips,” he orders. He slides the pillow beneath your hips and you let yourself relax against the bed as you settle into the new position. His fingers find new depths with the angle you're at and you whimper as he crooks his fingers against you.

“No,” he says. You realize he's talking to himself when his fingers move slightly then crook again. Something deep inside tingles and you hiss as your hips jerk.

“Yes.” He draws the word out and looks at you with eyes narrowed in hunger. “Did you like that?”

You can only nod as he strokes you again, his fingers pressing up as they drag back. Your groan bounces off the walls and your feet dig into the bed as you grab fists of sheets.

“Do it again,” you say and Bucky obliges. He sets a new rhythm, this one slow and hard. A new pressure builds under his fingers and for a moment you panic. But when his other hand presses against your clit, you can only moan. It only takes a few more breathless moments of his slow and steady pressure before your legs are shaking. The hand on your clit makes tiny circles and you grind up into it as much as you can without losing contact with whatever Bucky is rubbing inside of you.

“Cum for me, darlin,” he says.

“So close,” you whine. The fingers inside of you hum gently and it's the final straw. You scream as a hot wave  
rushes through your body. Every nerve feels like it's on fire and your muscles tense so hard you struggle to breathe. Bucky eases the pressure of his strokes but does not stop until you ride your orgasm to the end. Only when you're limp on the mattress does he stop the vibration of his fingers and slide them from between your swollen lips. 

He crawls towards you and you feel his erection brush against your thigh. You crack your eye open and see he's managed to slide his own sleeping pants off at some point while your attention had been on his fingers.

“How do you feel?” He brushes his hand over your hair and your grin up at him.

“I feel really good,” you drawl. He laughs quietly for a moment, then takes another kiss. You lean into him and slide your hand down his chest until you close your fingers around his shaft.

“You promised to fuck me,” you murmur into his lips. He smiles and pumps his hips against your loose grip. You tighten your fingers until he groans softly and for a moment neither of you speaks as he thrusts against your hand.

“Are you sure you're up for another round?” He kisses along your neck as you nod slowly.

“I want you inside of me,” you say. He hums a little sound of pleasure, then slides himself from your fingers. 

There's no more teasing as he moves over you and parts your thighs with his knees. Your orgasm left you wet enough that he doesn't need lube. He only rubs himself against your entrance for a moment then thrusts his hips forward. You hiss as his head spreads your swollen lips, but you pull him into your arms for a kiss before he misunderstands the sound.

“You feel so good,” he groans into your ear.

“So do you,” you mumble back. Your walls are swollen from your orgasm and you feel every inch of him as he pushes inside of you. He goes slow, at first, to make sure you're really ready for him. But once he knows he isn't going to hurt you, his restraint vanishes. He jerks the pillow out from beneath you and pushes your hips to the bed with one hand as his other arm slides under your shoulders and pulls your close.

“Fuck,” he groans softly. His thrusts start slow, deep, and controlled. But he speeds up after a few moments and you hear the bed groaning under the force of his motions.

“Harder Bucky,” you urge him on. “Fuck me harder. Fuck me until you cum inside of me.” He groans and slams into you hard enough that your hips ache, but you don't say a word. Your mind has gone blank, save the sensations of the moment. No nightmares, no fear. Just pleasure and a touch of pain, and the feel of Bucky's skin against yours.

“Say it again, ,” he moans.

“Fuck me harder,” you murmur. Bucky shakes his head and pants for a moment before he can speak.

“The other part,” he manages. You smile and wrap your legs around his waist as he loses his rhythm for a moment.

“Cum in me, Buck,” you purr. “I need to feel you cum inside of me.”

“Fuck, {yn}.” He practically shouts your name as he pushes you down into the mattress. Your eyes go wide as you feel his hips jerk in a way you know very, very well. Warmth explodes in your core as he roars a wordless cry into the pillow beside your head. 

Neither of you move for a long moment and you rub your hands along his taut back. You avoid the scars on his shoulder, because you know how he feels about them. But you let your fingers explore every other inch of him that they can reach. Your eyes close and you doze for a moment before you feel him lift his weight from you.

“How do you feel?” His eyes are hooded and his smile is lazy and you return the look.

“Well fucked,” you manage. He kisses you quickly, then moves aside and lets you roll out of bed. When you come back from the bathroom he's remade the bed in your favorite soft sheets and has turned your side down. You slide in gratefully as a yawn forces its way out. Bucky snuggles you into his chest and begins to stroke your hair.

“If you wake up again,” he says, “I will be more than happy to help out.” You smile into his chest but your mind drifts off before you can answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was strangely hard for me to post this chapter. If any of you fine folks have read my "Hearts, Minds, and Hard Lines" fic, you know I have a special place in my heart for Bucky Barnes. That being said, I promised to post a chapter for as many Marvel characters as I could manage so here it is!


	4. Thor Odinson/Thor

The cabin of the quinjet is silent as Natasha finishes running through the landing procedure. You resist the urge to tap your foot as you wait for her to drop the ramp. 

“{YN},” she begins. You cut her a glare and she presses her lips together.

“Don’t start, Nat. Thor was reckless and damn near got himself killed.”

“He was covering your back,” Natasha says. “Any one of us would have done the same if we’d been close enough.”

“Yeah but -” You fall silent, willing the heat in your cheeks to fade. Natasha, never one to miss a facial queue, arches a brow as her lips twitch into a brief smile.

“Oh, I think I get it now.” She says as she turns back to the controls. A second quinjet roars overhead before landing beside yours. A moment later the aerial members of your team land in a scattered formation around the two jets, Thor among them. 

“You should probably tell him.” Natasha glances at you. “Ya know, before something happens to one of you.”

Her words drain the heat from your face and leave you cold. It wasn’t like you hadn’t though the same thing. It was, after all, the reason you were so mad at Thor. He’d damn near taken a bullet for you and it was pure luck that the shot had glanced off one of the metal circles on his battle gear. 

“Just drop the ramp,” you mutter darkly. “I’m tired and I need a shower.”

Natasha looks you over and purses her lips but she doesn’t argue with you. The jet whines as the ramp drops and you slip off the jet.

“{YN}.” The voice is so close, so unexpected, that your fist is moving through the air before you process who had spoken. Luckily Thor’s reflexes are faster than yours and he dodges out of the way. 

“What do you want?” You snap. Thor frowns in return, though from the way the expression settles on him it’s clear he’s been frowning for some time.

“We need to talk,” he says. “Shall we share an elevator to our floor?” 

“You never take the elevator.” You turn and walk away, hoping he’ll get the hint. Thor, being Thor, either doesn’t get it or chooses to ignore it.

“I am not usually at odds with you.” He falls into step beside you and your jaw clenches. 

The rest of the team lingers on the tarmac, most of them with the grace to pretend interest in something other than your argument with Thor. Tony and Rhodey, however, are openly staring. Tony waggles his brows at you when you meet his eyes, making Rhodey crack a smile before he slaps Tony on the chest and redirects his attention. Your temper flares but Thor motions you into the elevator and steps in beside you before you can snap iron-clad idiot.

“I don’t know what I have done to offend you,” Thor begins. You groan and lean back against the wall, arms crossed over your chest. Thor’s frown deepens as he goes on.

“But I value your friendship and I don’t want this... whatever it is... to stand between us.

Your heart twists painfully, the word “friendship” a knife slid between your ribs. The rest of the team were your friends but Thor meant something else to you. In some ways he meant more. And while Natasha had a point, your throat seemed to swell shut every time you thought of telling him.

“There’s nothing between us, Thor.” You answer, wincing at your own double meaning. “I had the situation under control and you endangered yourself to protect me. I-”

“I was in no danger,” Thor cuts in. 

“You’re not impenetrable, Thor.” Anger flares hot under your skin and you push away from the wall to jab a finger into his chest. It’s like jabbing a finger into fabric-covered stone. “That bullet could have ripped into your heart just as easily as ripping into mine.”

“I am not mortal, not like you are.” Thor’s voice rose a fraction in volume as he took a step back from you. 

“Oh, believe me I know, You use that as your excuse every time you charge into danger. Vikings may have made you a god, Thor Odinson, but you can suffer and bleed and die like anyone else.”

“Do you have the same concerns about Banner or Rogers or Stark?” Thor shouts. Anger snaps in his eyes and for a moment storm clouds seem to gather outside the elevator’s glass walls. You register them dimly as you shake your head.

“Of course not, because they’re not-” You cut off, eyes going wide.

“Not what?” Thor demands. This time he takes a step closer to you and you back up. Your back hits the elevator wall and still Thor advances, stopping just far enough away that you can’t evade the question but he isn’t looming. Yet.

You shake your head.

“They’re not... uh... not...” Your face is on fire and you can’t bring yourself to meet Thor’s eyes. Silence rings through the car for a moment before you finally lift your eyes to his. 

The anger is gone and his frown has softened from anger to confusion. His gaze searches yours and after a moment the frown disappears altogether. With it go the storm clouds outside.

“{YN},” he says softly. You look away again but Thor slides a finger under your chin and lifts your gaze back to his. His eyes flick over your face until they come to rest on your mouth. He glances up at you, once, then tips his lips down to yours.

The elevator chimes as it stops at the floor the two of you had been assigned to, but you hardly register the sound. Thor’s lips are warm and so, so soft against yours. His finger is still under your chin but his other arm circles your waist and you feel your knees begin to shake. Every ounce of anger seems to spill out of you as you kiss him, your arms thrown around his shoulders. It’s a long moment before either of you pulls back, arms still tight around one another. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” FRIDAY says. “But there are others in need of the elevator and I cannot hold it much longer. WIll the two of you be staying on this floor?” 

“Yes,” Thor says quickly. He wraps your hand in his own and leads you from the car

“Enjoy your day,” Friday says. Then the elevator doors slide closed and the car vanishes down the side of the building. 

Neither of you speaks and you find yourself struggling to meet his eyes. Then Thor tugs on your hand once more, pulling you into his chest.

“I think I understand now,” he says. You glance up at him and feel your cheeks warm when you find him smiling down at you.

“I... it’s...” You stammer then give up, simply shaking your head. Thor chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead, making your eyes go wide with surprise.

“DId it ever occur to you that I stepped in front of that gun because I wanted to protect you? That the thought of that bullet finding you was - well, I couldn’t allow it.”

“Why?” You ask, though you’re sure you already know the answer. But you have to be certain, have to hear him say it.

Instead of speaking, Thor simply kisses you again. It’s harder and hotter than before and your head is spinning after only a moment of contact. You’re so caught up in the feel of his mouth on yours that you don’t realize he’s moved you down the hall until your back bumps into the wood of a door. You turn your head, breaking the contact as you blink to clear your vision.

“Come inside with me,” he says quietly. You nod, already tilting your face up for more. He only smiles and rubs a thumb over your lips..

“Door first,” he teases. You grin, too happy to feel embarrassed as Thor reaches around you and fiddles with the keypad. The door swings open a second later and Thor’s arm around your waist is the only thing that keeps you from stumbling backwards into his apartment.

He walks towards you, forcing you to walk backwards into the entryway. You get a brief glimpse of stone-like walls and a larger space than you had expected. Then Thor kicks the door closed and gathers you up into his arms.

“I have thought of this for some time,” he says. Your grin widens and you press your face into his neck.

“So have I,” you murmur. Thor chuckles, the sound making his throat dance beneath you lips and you can’t help but nip him gently. A sharp inhale followed by a low growl urges you to do it again.

“Will you come to my bed?” He pulls back to meet your eyes. You nod without hesitation and a smile lights his face so brilliantly that you feel dazzled all over again. He sweeps you down the hall, dropping Mjolnir by the bedroom door.

His room is dominated by a bed so large it’s almost comical. The blankets are mounded high, soft mountains of cream and gold rising over the softest mattress you’ve ever seen. Thor sets you down a few feet from the edge of the bed, giving you a moment to process the room.

“{YN}.” Thor murmurs your name and you turn to look up at him. With his hair mussed from your hands and his eyes hooded with desire, he’s like a man you’ve never met before. The Thor you knew was a passionate but jovial man. This Thor is all passion and the realization sends a thrill up your spine. 

You step into his arms and run his hands down his chest.

“I have no idea how to get this off.” You tug at the front of his uniform and Thor grins, a hint of humor edging into the desire. It’s a mix you find yourself enjoying.

“Allow me,” he says with a small bow. Then he steps back and begins shedding the battle-torn clothes. You miss how he does it, your focus locked solely on the way his muscles move and roll as more of his clothing falls away. After only a breath he is completely naked and you can’t stop yourself as your tongue runs over your lips. He is every bit as muscled as his uniform makes him look, his skin taut over the toned hills and valleys. 

“This is hardly fair,” he says quietly. Your eyes snap back up to his and you smile at the light dancing in his expression.

Thor arches a brow and you take a step back, hands moving to the closures of your uniform. It’s easier to get out of than his had been and within moments you’re nude, fighting the urge to cover yourself with your hands.

“I have seen galaxies with less beauty to them,” he says softly. Heat floods your cheeks though you’re sure he’s just flattering you.

“Come here.” He motions you closer and you swallow hard. You take careful steps over the piles of clothes until his arms close around your waist. His skin is hot against yours, particularly at the place where he’s moving against your thigh.

He bends over you, tightening his arms until your back bends and opens your throat to his lips. You thread your fingers into his hair and Thor hums with pleasure, the sound vibrating against your collarbone.

“Hold on,” Thor murmurs. His hands close on your thighs and pull you up into his arms until your legs wrap around his waist. He nudges at your entrance for a moment, just enough to draw a gasping moan from your lips. Then he lifts you higher, fingers kneading your thighs as he crawls onto the bed.

Your head touches his pillow, the scent of him rushing over you as he presses your body into the mattress. His hips roll slowly against yours, dragging his length against you until you’re shivering beneath him.

“Please, Thor...” You tangle your fingers in his hair again, tugging him towards you until you can press your lips to his. His hands roam your body, tracing your form until every inch of flesh seems to jump with the shock of his touch. 

Only when you’re trembling and bucking up against him does Thor let one hand stray from your body. You try to see what he’s doing, but his other hand cradles your cheek and keeps your mouth angled for his attention. Something rips open near your ear but Thor’s gentle hand on your cheek keeps your focus on him. His lips, his tongue, his thumb brushing against your jaw as he finally releases your lips and trails his mouth down your throat to your breasts. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. His lips close around one nipple and your back arches sharply, pressing your body more fully against his mouth. He closes one hand around your other breast, fingers working the nipple with a dexterity that you hadn’t thought him capable of. You can feel his other hand working between your bodies but your mind is reluctant to focus on anything but the way his lips are working your breast. It isn’t until his mouth moves back up to yours that you can feel him nudging at your entrance. A glance at the table beside the bed reveals a torn condom wrapper and you arch your hips up into his. 

The head of his cock slips between your lips and you let out a low groan, eyes drifting closed as Thor presses further into you. His body drives your hips down into the mattress and you shift your legs as high on his hips as you can manage. You can feel his breath against your neck and he nuzzles into you, nipping gently at your throat.

Your hands tighten in his hair as he presses fully into you. Thor groans, the sound fading into a growl as he grinds against your thighs. He wraps one hand around your upper thigh, pressing your leg as close to his hip as possible. You can feel every roll of his muscles as he buries himself between your legs over and over, his other arm is braced above your head. You begin to meet him thrust for thrust and he presses his face into your neck as he groans. 

The muscles of his core work against your belly as he moves faster, hips slamming up into yours. Your hands roam from his hair to his back and a shiver rolls up your spine when you feel the way his muscles roll under your fingers. Thor’s mouth leaves tiny marks along your throat that you can’t help but think of as reminders you’ll have long after you leave his bed. He sinks his teeth into his hardest bite yet and then meets your eyes as he seats himself completely within you. When he kisses a moment later you it’s soft, all of his hunger and heat held back. 

The kiss goes on and on until you’re nearly breathless. He releases you to swipe a thumb over your lips, smiling at their swollen warmth. Then he sits up, careful to keep himself deep within you. He takes your hips in his hands, lifting them as he rises onto his knees and begins to move against you once more. His angle has changed, his body striking yours in places that makes lights dance behind your eyes.. You practically yelp with each contact, back arched to press closer to the sensations. Your fingers knot into the sheets and within moments you’re gasping, head spinning as your vision narrows and the pressure between your hips boils over.

“Thor, I... I’m...” You try to gasp the words but there doesn’t seem to be enough air in your lungs. Thor doesn’t need the warning, however. His eyes have never left your face and he smiles as he releases one of your hips. His thumb finds the ache just above your clit and presses there, rolling gently. 

Lighting arcs through every limb and you can’t even cry out as your body clenches around his, hips bucking so hard you’re sure he’ll lose his grip. Thor arches over you, his hands coming up to tangle in the pillowcase on either side of your head. His thrusts never stop or slow, even as you thrash beneath him. Your climax only serves to feed his own and he growls low into your shoulder as he buries himself as deep as he can. You feel the heat of his release through the fog of shocks still rolling through your body and wrap your arms around him. You try to murmur to him but you’re not sure if the words even make it past your lips. It isn’t until you finally fall limp against the mattress that you can hear him groaning your name, his climax still rolling through his body. 

It’s a long moment before he goes still and then slumps against you, body still shaking from the height of his release. He lifts his head from your neck and smiles down at you, a lazy curve of the lips. You lean up and kiss him, whimpering softly as he slides his body from yours and gathers you to his chest. The kiss is brief, both of you still gasping for air after your release.

“I think,” Thor says after a moment, “that I should anger you more often.”

You chuckle and nip at his chest, making him jump in surprise.

“Or you could just kiss me. I think I like that idea better,” you murmur. Thor hums a thoughtful noise, one hand coming up to stroke your shoulder. 

“As you wish,” he says with a shrug. You smile, eyelids drooping as you nuzzle closer against him.

“Now now, no sleeping. Not yet.” He rolls you onto your back and kisses you quickly.

“And why is that?” You ask, arching a brow at him. 

“I have a rule about showering after a mission.” His face it utterly serious. “And I am very eager to see how fun a shower for two can be.”

He pushes off the bed and holds his hand out to you, his body outlined by the sun setting outside the large window behind him. You can’t help but grin as you roll to the edge of the mattress and place your hand in his. A shower for two is one of the better ideas you’ve heard all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song "Kiss It Better" by Rihanna


	5. Wanda Maximoff/ Scarlet Witch

Earth rains down on you and you aren’t quite sure if the nightmare or the explosions overhead are what woke you up. 

“Are you sure we’re safe in here?” You squint across the small bunker to where Rogers is stretched out on his bunk.

“As safe as anywhere else within a hundred miles,” he says.

“Remind me again why we’re hiding out in a foxhole instead of kicking ass?” Tony is in the bunk above Steve’s, venting his agitation through the combined use of the a bouncy ball and the ceiling a few feet over his head.

“We have to stick to the plan,” Steve grumbles. “The rest of the team will get here tomorrow and then we take the enemy out all at once. If we go in now we risk-”

“The bad guys splitting up and slipping away,” Tony finishes. He sighs and launches his ball at the ceiling so hard it ricochets, angling straight at your bunk. 

You yelp as the ball pings against your cheek, feeling more like a rubber bullet than a cheap bouncy ball.

“Damnit Stark!” You launch the ball back at him, taking some small pleasure in the way he braces for its impact by throwing his arms over his face.

“Sorry {YN},” Tony calls back. “Complete accident, my bad.”

You glower at him a moment longer, then lay back down. The mattress beneath you feels like it’s stuffed with the rockiest dirt around, the largest rock of all serving as your pillow. 

“How did you do this for so long back in the 40’s?” You glance over at Steve. He looks as rigid and uncomfortable in his bed as you do.

“Practice.” He replies with a shrug. “Though things at home weren’t much more comfortable so I guess I was kinda used to it.” 

“Maybe I should get a lousier bed back at home,” you grumble as you roll back over.

“I’d deal with those nightmares first,” Tony says. “Knocking those out might save you a trip to Mattress World.”

You glare up at Tony as Steve goes up on one elbow to look you over.

“You having nightmares, {YN}?” He asks. You shake your head and Steve frowns. “It helps to talk about them, you know-”

The rest of his words fade out into an indistinct buzz as you feel your anxiety levels rising. This was why you didn’t want to go on this assignment, didn’t want Steve finding out about your nightmares. You could barely bring yourself to think about them and you sure as hell weren’t ready to share them campfire-style with your teammates.

“Captain.” Wanda’s voice floats down from the bunk above you. “Maybe I should help {YN} with those nightmares. Sometimes a private intervention helps more than a group session.” You could kiss her for stepping in. Then again you had that urge most days, so really you were just glad for the excuse to indulge in the fantasy of something you knew would never happen. You’d seen first-hand what happened when teammates got too close. People got hurt or people died or people vanished. You couldn’t risk that, not with Wanda.

Your bunk shakes as Wanda climbs down the ladder, her clothes rumpled from her own attempts to sleep. She’s half-dressed in her battle uniform, just like the rest of you, Tony excluded. Steve insisted it was to allow for a quicker roll-out in the morning, but you still weren’t convinced that the time saved was worth the discomfort of sleeping in your boots. Naturally Steve had been unmoved by this argument.

“Can I lay down with you?” Wanda asks quietly. “It’ll be easier to maintain a connection if we’re closer than my bunk to yours.”

“The more the merrier,” you say with a shrug. The bed is narrow but the two of you manage to wriggle on without too many bruises to the shins. You would definitely be fighting the boots-to-bed policy on the next extended mission. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wanda asks, one of her arms around your waist.

“I’m fine, Wanda.” You try to smile at her over your shoulder but in the cramped space you’re pretty sure you only manage to give yourself a crick in the neck.

“Close your eyes and do a ten-count breathing exercise.” You feel Wanda’s arm tighten around your waist as she shifts to bring her free hand against the back of your neck. 

Another explosion goes off on the surface over your heads and you slam your eyes closed, breathing hard.

“Calm down {YN},” Wanda murmurs. “We’re going to be okay.”

You nod and take a deep breath that rattles into your lungs like a landslide. One of Wanda’s fingers begins to trace a small circle on the back of your neck and you zero your focus in on the sensation. You time your breath to the movement and fall into the breathing exercise Natasha had taught all of you some months back. She had said it would help keep you calm in battle. You wonder idly if she’d had to use it in hidey-hole bunkers of her own.

“Good, good,” Wanda murmurs. She shifts closer and rests her forehead against your back. Your heart lurches then shifts into a higher gear, costing you some of the calm you’d achieved. 

“I’m going to forge the connection then join you inside your mind. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” You croak the word, suddenly very aware of how close Rogers and Stark are. From the sounds of Tony’s bouncy ball, however, at least one of them is paying you no attention whatsoever. With any luck Rogers’ supersoldier hearing won’t pick up on your hammering heart.

Tingles run down your back and you shiver. From the way Wanda’s fingers have gone still on your neck, you can only assume the shiver is your body’s way of dealing with the mental bridge. 

“I’m coming over,” she says quietly. You take a deep breath, wondering what it’s going to be like.

And then she’s there. And you’re there. And _there_ is there. Your mind has always been something of a mystery to you, an abstract concept full of grey mists and half-seen thoughts that turn into words or actions if you latch onto them.

But from the moment Wanda steps into your mind it’s like someone has raised the house lights in a disused theatre. Everything is a shimmering grey but you can clearly make out the planes of the ground and where the horizon meets those planes in the far distance.

“Holy hell,” you murmur. It isn’t until that moment that you realize that you can see yourself. Not a memory of your reflection, but a construct so close to your physical body that it takes you a moment to remember this is, literally, all in your head.

“You’ve never had a psychic in your mind before, have you?” Wanda asks. You turn to face her, eyes popping slightly as you look her over. Her construct seems more solid than your own and you absently wonder if you could get as good if you practiced or if it was part of her mutation. Her eyebrows go up after a moment and you realize you’ve been staring.

“Nope,” you say. “This is a first.” You should look away, you know you should, but you can’t. Gone are the black leggings and red jacket of her battle uniform. Wanda now wears a black dress that skims her legs at mid-thigh, leaving a few inches of leg exposed before her black socks start just above her knee. Garter straps run up from the socks and vanish beneath the full skirt of the dress, leaving your mouth a little drier than is comfortable.

“Are you okay?” Wanda frowns at you and moves a step closer. 

“Yep, just peachy,” you say quickly. You smile at her, then force yourself to turn away and look around. “So what’s next on the magical mystery tour?” 

Wanda laughs and the sound washes over you like a perfume. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sleep or your fear, but every little thing about Wanda is slipping under your skin tonight in a way you normally refuse to allow. 

“Well, we can work on those nightmares of yours if you’d like.” Wanda says. “Or we can go exploring, which is always enlightening.”

You think of Wanda stumbling across some evidence of your desire for her and cringe. 

“Let’s stick to the nightmares,” you say. “Rogers will be extra grumpy if we go through all this and don’t at least try to follow orders.”

“He never gave us any orders.” Wanda steps up beside you and loops her arm through yours. The contact sends a shiver through what you’ve come to think of as your body and for a moment Wanda’s eyes seem to widen a fraction. But when you focus on her she looks the same as always. 

“What do you think we should do?” You bump your shoulder against her, trying to remember how you usually act when you’re around her. It’s been hard enough to hide your feelings from her when you were able to keep your distance on base or in the Tower. Your stomach lurches as you realize that, had you not been so sleep addled, you never would have agreed to this. The risk was too high. 

“Well that depends,” Wanda says.

“On?” You blink at her, trying for an air of nonchalance and failing. 

She doesn’t answer, not right away. Her arm loosens its grip on yours and she steps around to face you. 

“Are we going to be honest with each other or not?” She frowns at you and a weight settles in your stomach. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

“What do you mean?” You ask. Wanda’s frown deepens and she drops your arm altogether. 

“Something is going on with you,” she says. “I’m only on the surface of your mind so I can’t tell what it is, but I can feel the ripples like... like little earthquakes. Something about me being here is making you very uncomfortable and that can only make things worse.” She frowns a moment longer then glances away as she hugs herself, arms tense. “Do I make you uncomfortable? I know I’m usually the one _causing_ nightmares but I... I just want to help you.” Her voice is so sad, her expression so confused that you can almost hear your heart breaking.

“No... jesus no. Wanda, please don’t think-” You cut off, staring at where your hands have taken hold of her arms. It was an unconscious gesture, though one you had imagined a thousand times. In your daydreams you’d pull her closer and press your lips to hers, stopping only to tell her how beautiful she is. 

The image flits through your mind before you can tamp it down and Wanda’s head snaps up, eyes noticeably wider this time.

“Did you, erm-” You snatch your hands back and step away. “Did you see that?”

Wanda nods, a slow and deliberate motion than makes the weight in your stomach grow heavier.

“Contact like that allows for a deeper awareness,” she says. “I could have shielded myself from it but I... I wanted to understand.” She drops her arms. “And now I do.”

“I’m so sorry, Wanda.” You take another step back. “I know it’s not a good idea for teammates to-”

Wanda doesn’t let you finish. She closes the space between in a movement so fast you’re sure she hadn’t actually moved at all. One minute she’s several feet away and the next she’s pulling you into her arms, a slight wind lifting her hair to dance around your face.

“You don’t have to apologize,” she says. “I liked it.” The weight in your stomach evaporates in an instant.

“You did?” Heat spills into your cheeks when you realize how much shock had leaked into your voice. Wanda only smiles.

“Do you think I’d have crawled into bed with Rogers or Stark? No, I’d have made them sit up or come down on the floor with me.” She wraps her arms around your neck, brushing her lips against your cheek. “But I wanted to hold you and I’ve had the feeling for a while that you’ve wanted to hold me too. So I took the chance when I saw it.”

Part of you wants to argue, sure as you are that you’d been doing a better job at hiding your feelings than that. But the majority of you yells the idea down in favor of wrapping your arms around Wanda’s waist and burying your face in her neck, risks be damned. Your lips skin her throat as you give in.

“Do you actually smell this good,” you murmur, “or is it just my imagination?” 

Wanda laughs again, the sound even headier now that you can feel her body shaking in your arms. 

“A little bit of both,” she answers a moment later. She takes your face in her hands and tugs you from the crook of her neck. Your eyes meet hers and all you can do is try to imprint everything about the moment into your memory. 

“I want you to kiss me,” she says. She doesn’t have to say it twice. You pull her as close as you can, one hand slipping up her back to curve her into the line of your body as you bring your lips to hers. She slips her hands around to cradle your neck, her lips so soft against yours that you’re sure it’s more your imagination than the reality of her. Wanda sighs into the kiss and you decide you don’t care. It’s enough to finally feel her in your arms. 

Wanda pulls away first, her hands sliding around to run down your chest. 

“Wanda.” You take her hands in yours, pulling them away from your body. “We can’t-”

“Why not?” She gives you a lazy smile that coils a low heat around the base of your spine.

“Hooking up with teammates is dangerous,” you say. “It clouds your judgement and-”

Wanda kisses you again, her hands surging forward to grab hold of your waist. For a moment you can’t think of what to do with your hands, torn between stepping away from her and pressing closer once again. When Wanda opens her lips to you, fingers pressing gently into the curve of your waist, she makes the decision for you. 

Your hands cup her face gently as though afraid to hurt her. Wanda doesn’t share your hesitation and presses her fingertips into your waist with a hunger that steals your breath. 

“This is such a bad idea.” You press your forehead to Wanda’s the moment she releases your lips.

“Barton and Romanov are doing just fine. It could cause problems but it could also solve them.” Wanda runs her hands up and down your sides, her fingers seeming to grow warmer with each pass.

“How can this solve anything?” You lift your forehead from hers to look at her.

“I can see what your nightmares have been, {YN}. You’re so worried about losing me in a mission, or protecting me and losing someone else, that it’s tearing you apart. If we just admit what’s going on, what we feel, then we can plan for that when we’re out on missions. And we’ll both feel better when we’re off-duty.”

“I... I hadn’t considered that.” You bite your lip, losing yourself in thought. Wanda was right, about the nightmares and about your fears. Your reservations won’t vanish overnight and you’re sure to come up with some new argument by morning. But in the haze of your mind, with Wanda in your arms, it’s enough to silence your protests.

“I’ve been wanting you too,” Wanda presses on. You meet her eyes once again and she smiles at you. The heat around your spine spreads into a ache low in your hips as you slowly return the smile.

“So who tells Rogers?” You tease. Wanda rolls her eyes and presses her body against yours.

“We’ll worry about Rogers when we have to go back to the outside,” she says. “Right now I want to worry about me and you.”

“What about the nightmares?” You don’t hesitate this time as you wrap your arms around Wanda, holding her as she presses closer.

“Normally we’d go work through them like a lucid dream. But I have a better idea.”

She flashes you a wicked grin and slips her hands around to your lower back. Her fingers press and knead, working at the ache anchored there.

“I want to help take care of this,” she murmurs. Her lips find yours, then move away to your jaw before you can even think to kiss her back. “And I want you to take care of mine.”

“Are... are you sure? How will that help?” You could kick yourself for fighting with her on this. This was the stuff of your dreams, with the unbelievable bonus that Wanda was actually in your arms. 

“You’re so scared of losing me without having the chance to know how you feel, to know if I feel the same. We should take care of that.”

“I think you know how I feel,” you murmur. Wanda nods, then digs her fingers into your back to press your pelvis against hers.

“We’ve both made it pretty clear. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy one another while we’re here.”

“We can do that here?” Your words begin to shake as the nearness of Wanda’s body twists around your mind like a spell. 

“I can teach you,” she says softly. “And it’ll do you some good to see that we can be together and the world won’t end.”

You had to admit that her points were valid. She might have been less persuasive from a few feet away, but you weren’t willing to test the theory. 

“Excellent points,” you say. You smile at her and run your hands across her hips. Wanda grins and angles her lips against yours once again. Her lips are already starting to swell from the pressure of your kiss and you can’t help but groan low in your throat when you notice. Wanda’s hands find their way back to your neck as she parts your lips with her own, dividing your attention between the myriad places her body is pressed to your own. 

The kiss is long, rendering you breathless well before Wanda takes one of your hands in her own and guides your fingers to her waist. You finally lift your lips from hers as she slowly slides your hand up her body, stopping only when your fingers brush the slope of her breast. She holds your gaze and presses your closer to her body before releasing it and bringing both her hands to the zipper at the front of your uniform. 

“Wanda.” Your fingers slowly move up the heavy swell of her breast, trembling slightly as you brush over the hard nub of her nipple beneath her dress. 

She smiles, kissing you into silence as she tugs your zipper down. 

“I hate jumpsuits,” she grumbles. A moment more of work and she has the zipper all the way down. She begins pushing the suit off your shoulders and down your arms, forcing your fingers to leave her breast. The tank top beneath the suit goes next, pushed up over your head before you’d finished peeling the jumpsuit down to your waist.

“This is all you wear beneath your suit?” Wanda holds the tank top up, then tosses it over her shoulder. You nod and pull her back into your arms.

“The suit is support enough. Anything more is extra weight.”

“Remind me of that when we get back from this mission,” Wanda teases. Your cheeks burn hot again but she doesn’t give you much time to overthink the moment. Her fingers find a nipple and work it with light twists and tugs. You groan and hold her tighter, taking hold of her chin and tilting her lips back to yours. Wanda moans softly and the moment your lips touch hers your hand is sliding down her collarbone to her breasts. 

You don’t have the same access she does, the dress being all one piece. But her nipples are hard beneath the fabric and it only takes you a few moments to find them.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you growl into Wanda’s mouth. 

“You should fix that,” she answers. You briefly wish you had a bed to hand and Wanda grins into the kiss. 

“You grant wishes now?” You ask as you look over Wanda’s shoulder.

“I can do just about anything here,” Wanda says. “I told you I would teach you.” 

“That’ll teach me never to underestimate you again.” You shoot back. Then you kiss her, hard and hungry. She whimpers and tightens her fingers on your nipple. You slowly walk her back until her knees hit the bed, the two of you toppling onto the mattress in a rush of breath. Wanda crawls backwards into the center of the bed and you follow, your lips never leaving hers until she settles beneath you. One of your knees slips between hers, the heat of her desire heady even through the leg of your jumpsuit. 

“You’re amazing,” you breathe. Wanda giggles and reaches for you, pink staining her cheeks. You guide her hands to your chest and stay on your knees above her. 

One hand tangles into her hair, your skin aching to feel the strands around your fingers. The other slides down her belly, stopping to cup the heat between her thighs. Wanda rolls her hips, urging you on and you grin as you drag the heel of your hand further down. She groans softly and you roll your palm, the heel of your hand pressing against the sweet spot of nerves beneath it. Wanda abandons your breasts to grip your arms, fingers digging in as she grinds her pelvis up into your hand. You let her ride your palm a moment longer, then slowly move your hand lower still. Wanda pouts and reaches for your hand but you shake your head with a smile.

“Trust me,” you say. Wanda frowns for a moment but nods, her thighs trembling beneath your hand as it reaches the hem of her dress. 

Her eyes go wide as she meets your gaze and nods eagerly. Your fingers slip beneath her skirt, skimming over the silken flesh of her legs before reaching the lace edge of her panties. Her hips buck, once, and you can’t keep your movements slow and teasing any longer. Your fingers brush over her mound then slip into the waist of her panties, not stopping until they’ve skimmed past her clit and worked between her lips. 

“{YN}!” Wanda gasps out your name, back arching as her legs move further apart to grant you more access.

“So beautiful,” you murmur. Your lips move to her throat, leaving tiny marks as you shower her with kisses and gentle bites. Your fingers slip deeper with ease, her arousal obvious and gratifying as you press yourself against her hip in a slow, languid grind. 

“Deeper,” Wanda groans, turning her head to force your lips to hers. You oblige, both with a kiss and a shift of your shoulders that slips your fingers further into her warmth. She begins to tremble in your arms and you curl your fingers, seeking the places that make her hips jump. They’re not hard to find and you work them until she cries out, body clenching around you. Your free hand strokes her hair as you move your lips back to her throat, wanting to leave her mouth free to voice the sounds of her climax. The sounds she makes are intoxicating and each one fans the heat between your thighs.

Your fingers work between her thighs until she goes slack in your arms, body shaking with aftershocks of pleasure. Then you slide yourself from her and settle on the bed against her side, willing your hips to go still as Wanda recovers from her climax.

“You felt so good,” she says after a moment. 

“So did you.” You nuzzle into her neck, returning to your trail of kisses as Wanda turns her head and lets out a small sound of contentment. 

“There’s only one problem,” she says after a moment. You stop and look up at her, brows lifted in confusion. “We’re still wearing too many clothes.”

You grin and roll onto your back, tugging on her hand until she straddles you. 

“No cardigan?” You tease, running your hands up her bare arms to the thin straps of her dress.

“I know you like this dress and you seem to like it best when I don’t wear a sweater,” she answers with a shrug. You nod and pull her down towards you until your fingers find the zipper at the back of her dress. Wanda takes the chance to lavish your throat with the same attention you had marked hers with and you groan as you fumble with the zipper. It finally reaches the bottom of its track and Wanda sits up, shrugging out of the straps of both her dress and her bra. You follow her up, hands scrambling to unhook the clasps holding her bra to her body.

It takes you a few tries, but the moment the hooks are free you pull the garment from her, eyes riveted to her breasts. Wanda pushes her dress further down and cradles your head in her hands, tugging your mouth to her body. Your lips close around one nipple as you tweak the other with one hand. Her flesh is soft though her nipple is like a rock between your lips and you move your tongue against her, sucking gently before you apply the lightest pressure with your teeth. Wanda’s hips begin rolling against you once more and you grin into her breast, releasing the nipple just long enough to switch your attentions to the other. 

Wanda arches her back and you wrap your free arm around her waist for a moment, gathering the hem of her skirt in one hand. Then you sit back, drawing a groan of protest from Wanda until she feels you pushing her dress up.

“This has to go,” you rasp. Wanda joins you, pulling the dress up over her head before throwing it off the bed. Her hair falls forward into curtains on either side of your face as your mouth slips over her nipple once more. Wanda works one hand down to tweak at your own nipple, but her attentions waiver whenever your tongue moves in a new way or you switch to the other breast. 

“These too.” You come up for air a moment later, fingers tugging at her panties. 

“What about these?” She asks, plucking at her socks with one hand. Your cheeks grow warmer and you lay your hands over hers.

“Would you leave those on?” You ask. Wanda grins and nods, then shrieks out a short laugh as you roll her over , pinning her beneath you. Your lips find hers as your fingers fumble open the garter clips on her thigh-high socks. They pop open after a little more work than you’d like and you drag your fingers up to her panties, pleasure and pride pooling in your belly when you find how wet they are. You tug them off, Wanda lifting her helps to help you along. When you sit up again she’s nude beneath you, save the black socks pulled high over her knees.

“Your turn,” she says. 

She sits up and pushes hard on your chest. You fall back, legs coming out from under you as Wanda crawls over you once more. Her fingers curl into the jumpsuit bunched at your waist and she yanks on it until you lift your hips. She works it down your legs until she reaches the boots. They’re part of the suit and are great in the field, but here with Wanda they are only in the way. Wanda worked past them faster than you had ever managed, dropping the whole uniform off the side of the bed before surging forward to wrap her fingers in the waist of your panties. Her eyes meet yours as she tugs them down and the hunger in her gaze sends a thrum of pleasure up your spine to the base of your skull.

“Gorgeous,” she murmurs. “Absolutely gorgeous.” She moves over you, straddling your hips and curving her body over yours to take your lips with hers. Her arousal is warm against your belly and your hand moves from her hips down to her belly before she places her hand over yours to halt its movement.

“It’s my turn,” she says with a grin. You swallow hard and nod, fingers flexing to press into her belly as she begins sliding down your body.

She keeps moving down until her shoulders are even with your thighs. Then she nudges your legs apart, slipping a knee over either shoulder.

“Oh god, Wanda!” You cry out her name as she nuzzles your thigh, nipping gently on one side before turning to the other. Her fingers dance over your lips, making shivers of pleasure snake up through your belly. Her teeth nip at the top of your thigh as her fingertips slip inside of you, moving in small circles until you feel the heel of her hand pressed against your clit, her fingers sunk to their deepest.

“Did I feel this good?” She asks you. You shake your head, two quick jerks of the head as your fingers grip the blankets. 

“You felt even better,” you gasp. Your back arches as she grinds hard against you, the pressure on your clit sending lightning to tingle up and down your limbs. Your climax is already building in your belly, try as you might to hold it off. So when Wanda’s tongue replaces the heel of her hand on your clit, the tip dancing circles around the bud, you have no reserve left. You scream her name, hips bucking despite your attempts to keep them still. Wanda throws an arm over your hips, pressing them to the bed as her lips latch to your clit, fueling a pleasure so intense it almost hurts. Your body clamps around her fingers and your back curves up off the bed in a near-perfect arc.

Wanda remains between your legs, fingers and lips working until your back gives way and you collapse back on the bed. Only then does she slip her fingers from you, replacing them a moment later with her tongue.

“Fuck, Wanda!” Your fingers knot in her hair but she doesn’t seem to care. She tastes every inch of you, groaning softly now and again until she finally pulls away with a grin.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” She crawls up the bed to lie beside you, one arm thrown across your belly. It still quivers with currents of pleasure and she lets out a pleased chuckle when an especially strong one makes you gasp.

“We’ll have to do this again soon,” she says. You nod, slipping one arm under her shoulder to tug her closer.

“As soon as we get back from this mission,” you say. “Because I want to feel the real thing.”

“It’ll be even better,” Wanda promises and you nod.

Neither of you seems in a hurry to get up and after a long moment you think back to your body, still curled up on your bunk.

“Will Stark or Rogers know what we did?” You ask. Wanda glances up from where she’s nestled into your shoulder. “I mean, will our bodies give away anything?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Wanda says. “At worst they’ll have seen us go rigid when we came but they’ll probably blame that on the nightmares.”

“Oh, well... okay then.” You shift closer to her, humming happily when she throws one leg over yours. Your eyes drift closed, your mind working to memorize how she feels against your side, in your arms. When you open your eyes again, everything is a little hazier than before. Panic surges through you and Wanda’s head shoots up from your shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, voice soft with an edge of sleep.

“Everything is hazy,” you say. Wanda lets out a breath and relaxes against you, her fingers dancing a soothing rhythm against your arm. 

“That’s what happens when you’re psychically active and falling asleep,” she says.

“Is that... are we safe?” You try to glance at her but she refuses to lift her head from the crook of your neck.

“Perfectly,” she says. “You’ll go to sleep like normal and I’ll return to my own mind. When we wake up we’ll be back in the real world and Rogers will be telling us to suit up.”

“I’d rather stay here,” you say quietly. Wanda hugs herself more tightly against you.

“We’ll be back,” she says. “We have plenty of time to be together.”

You nod, eyes closing once more. This time they stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song "Beyond the Veil" by Lindsey Stirling


	6. Sam Wilson/ Falcon

“So you've taken up yoga?”

Sam's voice is the first sound you've heard in the last hour, outside your own breath. You lose your balance in your surprise and fall into a graceless pile on the living room rug.

“You're going to give me a heart attack,” you mutter irritably.

“Then we'll be even,” he says. He perches on the arm of the couch and folds his arms over his chest as he watches you pick yourself up. “I wake up and you're gone. Not a sound in the apartment, your phone off the charger. I thought you'd been called to a mission.”

“I would have woken you up,” you say. You grab your water bottle from an end table and take a long pull.

“I wasn't sure,” Sam says with a shrug. “We've never really talked about it.”

“Well now you know,” you reply. Your tone is sharp and you instantly regret it, but an apology would fall flat in your current mood.

“There's a lot we're not talking about right now,” Sam says softly. You sigh, walk back to the yoga mat and begin a slow overhead stretch, back turned pointedly to Sam’s post on the arm of the couch.

“I'm fine,” you say. “It's just a little insomnia.”

“A little insomnia?” Sam repeats. “I know the signs of post traumatic sleep loss, . Give me a little more credit than that.”

“See, this is why I didn't tell you.” You sigh and drop your arms, then turn to face Sam. “I knew you'd try and turn into a counselor and I don't need you to talk me through this. I just need to work it out.” 

Sam shakes his head and frowns.

“It doesn't work like that,” he says. “Either you talk about why you're not sleeping, or you end up collapsing from exhaustion. I care about you too much to let that happen.”

“You don't need to worry about me so much.” You intend to keep talking but Sam's sigh cuts you off. He purses his lips and gives you a long look, then pushes up from the couch.

“If I don't worry about you, then who will?” He demands, tone growing sharp. “You don't worry enough about yourself, the rest of the team has no idea you're not sleeping, and you won't go talk to a therapist.”

“Because I can handle this!” You know you should keep your voice down, that yelling is only one more piece of evidence that Sam is right. You’re just too tired to care.

“No you can't!” Sam's voice thunders through the living room and you clench your jaw. You could count on one hand, with room to spare, the number of times you’ve heard Sam raise his voice. And it had never been aimed at you before tonight.

“You don't trust me?” You ask as you cross your arms over your chest. Sam sighs and rubs one hand over his face before propping a hand on either hip.

“I trust you,” he says. “But you're new to this world. It's not like normal stress and if you try to handle this like you'd handle unpaid bills or a big project deadline, you're going to burn out.”

You try to hold onto your anger and the fierce expression on Sam's face only makes it easier. But beneath his irritation you can see his concern and it overpowers your desire to fight.

“You're not going to let this go, are you?” You hug yourself and look away, embarrassed your temper had burned out so quickly and hating the vulnerable sensation left in its wake. It felt safer to be angry.

“Not a chance in hell,” he replies. His hands are on your shoulders a moment later and you look up into his eyes. They're warm with concern and you sigh as you lay your head on his shoulder. He hadn't put a shirt on when he came to look for you and his bare shoulder is warm under your cheek.

“If I promise you that I'll go to the therapist tomorrow, will you drop it for tonight?”

“Only if you let me walk you to the office. I don't want something coming up that keeps you from getting the help you need. Or the sleep you need.” You sigh and give a small nod.

“It's a deal,” you murmur.

“Good,” Sam replies. His arms slide across your back and he rubs his thumb across one hip as you press into the warmth of his chest. Silence fills the room and you close your eyes as you focus on the sound of his heart beat.

“You know,” his voice rumbles in your ear. “I'd be happy to help you get some sleep tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” You reply without moving your ear from his chest. “And how do you propose to do that, Mr. Wilson?”

“Physical exertion,” he replies. “Something a little more challenging than yoga.”

“Sparring?” You lift your head and frown up at him, then flush when you realize he's grinning down at you.

“No, not sparring.” He rubs one hand across the small of your back and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I was thinking something a little more intimate than that.” His meaning finally registers and a slow smile forms on your lips.

“Now that you mention it, that sounds like more fun than deep breathing exercises.” You tip your face up for a kiss and sigh when his lips meet yours. They're soft and warm, and his kiss is exceptionally gentle. His hands cup the back of your neck as he slants his mouth across yours. You open to him and he smiles against your lips. Neither of you breaks from the kiss as he slowly steps backwards, leading you back to your bedroom.

You both trip a few times and Sam catches an elbow on a doorknob halfway down the hall, but you only giggle into the kiss and keep going until Sam's legs bump against the edge of the bed. He finally lifts his lips from yours and brushes a hand over your hair.

“Tomorrow morning, first thing,” he says.

“A therapist, I promise.” You sneak a kiss to the sensitive skin where his neck meets his chin and he lets out a low groan.

“Good,” he says. Then he wraps his arms around you and lifts you just far enough to drop you onto the bed. The mattress bounces you a few times and you laugh softly, though the sound fades into a content humming when Sam crawls over you. He supports his weight with a forearm on either side of your face, then peppers the skin of you neck and cheeks with slow, lingering kisses.

“Those yoga pants are in the way,” he whispers into your ear. You wriggle beneath him and finally kick the garment off, silently thanking your earlier self for skipping the underwear when you'd put the pants on.

“Shirt next.” He whispers the words then slides down the bed, his lips leaving a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your hip. You take a deep breath and wrestle out of your shirt, then suppress a small shiver when your skin registers the cool air. His fingers trace light patterns on both of your hips as he nuzzles his face into your thighs. They part for him and he kisses first one, then the other. Back and forth, again and again, moving lower with each brush of his lips.

“Sam,” you gasp his name as his lips find yours and the tip of his tongue makes a long, slow swipe. He doesn't look up until his tongue dips into your folds and finds your clit. He grins as you gasp and slide one hand down to cup the back of his head. Your eyes meet for just a moment, then he turns his attention back to the heat between your thighs.

You feel his fingers part you just enough to allow his tongue to explore lower and your fists tighten in the bedding. Your thighs move up to rest on his shoulders as he presses one hand to your belly gently, keeping you in place as his tongue works against you. Small noises escape you as you fight the urge to buck your hips up into him.

“Please, Sam.” You lick your lips and squeeze your eyes shut as his tongue flicks across your clit once more.

“Please what?” His tone is pure mischief but you're too eager for banter.

“Fuck me,” you gasp. “Please fuck me.”

“Since you asked nicely...” He spends a few moments more teasing your clit with his tongue until you groan in frustration. Only when the sound is echoing through the room does he sit back and begin a trail of kisses from the tops of your thighs up to your breasts. He pauses again, this time to lavish attention on first one nipple, then the other. You buck your hips up into his leg and only feel mild surprise when you realize he'd managed to kick off his boxers without your noticing.

Neither of your speak as you spread your legs further. Sam settles between them and you wrap your arms around his neck to draw him in for a kiss. His hand works between your bodies until you feel the head of his cock nudge your entrance. You part your legs a little further and he eases forward, slipping the crown between your folds. Your moan is muffled against his mouth and he pulls back to watch your face as he slides further inside of you. Head back and mouth open in a soft circle of pleasure, you let out a small whimper of pleasure as your body opens to him

 

“Shit...” Sam groans the word long and low. You squeeze around him and he hisses briefly as his hips snap forward. The motion drives him in to the hilt and drags a loud cry from both of you. You roll your hips up into him as he presses down and in, his arms sliding under your shoulders to pull you close.

He begins to pump after a moment and you move your hips in rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust. It's slow and steady at first, but you're quickly nearing your climax. You close your eyes and press a kiss into the crook of his shoulder before resting your head there. Sam knows you, knows what this means, and he tilts his hips so his pelvis grinds against your clit at each thrust. You cry out his name and let your head fall back against the pillow as your body twitches, the ache and heat inside of you building towards release.

“Cum for me baby,” Sam whispers in your ear. You open your eyes just enough to meet his gaze and watch as he licks his lips slowly. “Cum for me.” His words purr through your mind and you feel your chest tighten as heat explodes out from your core and through every inch of your body. Sam shudders as your muscles clench and unclench around him, then follows you down as he pours himself into you. Your thighs tighten against his hips and your arms slip around his shoulders to hold him close until his muscles relax and he lays his head on the pillow beside yours.

When he opens his eyes he smiles at you and you return it with a lazy tug of your lips. He slips from you and rolls to his side, arm around your waist. You cuddle into him and allow yourself to rest for a moment. It's cold when you finally slip from under his arm, so you clean yourself in a hurry and slide back into bed. Sam pulls the blankets up around the two of you and you let out a large yawn as he pulls you into his arms.

“Next time you wake up,” he says, “give me some warning?” He nuzzles your neck and you smile into the darkness.

“Will do,” you promise. You brush a thumb over his cheek and press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Besides, I think I like your sleep aid more than yoga.” You feel his lips curve against your cheek in the darkness as you slip to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song "Is Anybody Listening" by Danity Kane


	7. Tony Stark/Iron Man

“The battle doesn’t seem to be going well at all.” The reporter’s words cut into you and for a brief moment you hate him for the cold look in his eyes. Like watching the Avengers lose a battle wasn’t a big deal, like it didn’t matter if they all came home at the end. 

 

“It’s not.” The second reporter’s voice is thick with fear as she glances over her shoulder. She’s live, shooting from the edges of the fighting. War Machine roars overhead and the sound from the battlefield is momentarily distorted. You lean forward on the couch and search the scene, knowing that if Rhodey is nearby then Tony is too.

 

A flash of red and gold closer to the center of the chaos draws your eye.

 

“Iron Man and War Machine are taking the brunt of the fighting. There’s no sign of Captain America or the Hulk, but the rest of the team can be seen in the area surrounding Iron Man and-” The reporter cuts off as Iron Man rockets up into the air. Something darts after him, flying even faster than Tony. Your fingers knot together and you lean even closer to the TV, nearly tumbling onto the floor. 

 

 _Please_ slips from your lips over and over again like a prayer but you’re just not sure who you’re praying to: the gods, Fate, Death, or Tony.

 

The thing tailing Tony catches up to him and your heart lodges in your throat as the jets of his suit stutter out, limbs locking. Whatever followed him has knocked his power out. The two forms hang in midair, a tableau from your nightmares. Then the thing fires. Sparks rain down from Tony’s suit. And he plunges back to earth. 

 

Lights flash on around you and it isn’t until you feel hands on your shoulders that you realize you’re screaming. Two agents - your protection detail whenever Tony goes on a mission - are tugging you back against the couch. One of them reaches for the remote and you snatch it away, eyes glued to the news. But the feed cuts out just before Tony hits the ground, the local anchors explaining a loss of signal and speculating about EM pulses or massive explosions. 

 

“FRIDAY,” you choke out the word. Your throat feels scraped raw by your screams. “FRIDAY, tell me you still have a connection to Tony’s suit. Tell me he’s alive.”

 

FRIDAY doesn’t respond for a long moment, chiming once to let you know she’s heard you. Seconds tick by, enough of them that your breathing becomes labored with waiting.

 

“FRIDAY.” You scream her name this time, heart hammering too hard to allow for any more patience.

 

“I... I am sorry {YN},” FRIDAY says softly. “I have lost contact with the Iron Man suit. I believe Mr. Stark is-”

 

“Don’t say it.” You glare at the agents at either shoulder because there is no way to glare at FRIDAY. “We’ve lost signal before and he’s always come out okay.”

 

“That was before we had the new suit,” FRIDAY says.

 

“No, I won’t believe it.” You push up from the couch. “Until I see his body, I refuse to think that Tony is dead.” Your hands shake as you stumble down the hall to your room. The bedclothes are still rumpled from Tony’s departure that morning and the smell of his cologne spices the air. He feels so vital, so near, that you can’t imagine he’s anything but alive. You crawl up onto the bed, wrapping the sheets around you and burying your face in Tony’s pillow. With your eyes squeezed shut tight and the smell of him all around you, you can almost forget the image of his body falling back to earth, nothing beneath him but pavement.

 

 

Your eyes crack open as an explosion of chimes goes off over your head.

 

“What is it, FRIDAY?” You grumble. The sun is lower behind the bedroom curtains and you rub the heel of your hand to clear the grit of sleep that has gathered in your eyes.

 

“You must come to the main hall,” FRIDAY says. “I was wrong this afternoon. Mr. Stark-”

 

You’re already up and running, sheets trailing after you onto the floor. FRIDAY’s voice fades to a hum at the back of your mind as you pound down the hall and around the curve of the staircase. There is no sign of your security detail and a smile lights your face as you run the last few feet to the front hall of the house, then skid to a stop

 

The light spilling over the floor is a mosaic of scarlet and gold, reflecting off the curves of Tony’s suit.

 

“I heard you were worried about me.” Tony smirks at you, the hood if his suit rolled back. Bruises are just starting to blossom on one half of his face and down his neck.

 

“I saw you fall two hundred feet.” You take a step towards him.

 

“I’ve taken the plunge a few times, never liked it. The new suits have an impact system built in to keep me mostly alive. Provided I fall from the lower atmosphere, tops.” A glint comes into Tony’s eye. “I wonder if I could kick it up, maybe take a low-orbit approach to things...”

 

“So nothing is broken?” You ask.

 

“Well my other suit is trashed.” Tony shrugs as much as the suit allows. 

 

“I don’t care about the suit.” Your smile falters, the overwhelming joy at his return slowly falling to the crushing relief that he hadn’t died and the realization that, in some small part of your mind, you had been bracing for the worst.

 

Tony’s bravado dims and he opens his arms to you.

 

“I am one hundred percent unbroken,” he says. You nod, smile fading completely as you bite your lip to hold back the sob bubbling up your throat. Tony crooks a finger, motioning you closer, and you throw yourself into his arms as the sob forces its way out. He wraps his arms around you and the hum of the suit fills your head as you press your ear to his chest.

 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “I’m home now.”

 

“FRIDAY said you might - might have been dead.”

 

“It _was_ a possibility.” FRIDAY’s voice cut in.

 

“Yes, thank you FRIDAY. We’ll be talking about the suit interface later.” Tony’s voice tingles with agitation and FRIDAY’s answering chime sounds almost shamed as the AI falls silent.

 

There’s something calming about Tony’s hugs when he wears the suit. A sense of power and invincibility, not just for him but for you. This hug is no exception and you feel your tears come on more gently than your initial crash made you think possible. Tony cradles your head in one hand, silent as holds you. And for a moment it is enough. Soon, however, you find yourself craving the warmth and strength of his arms without the suit. You step back and Tony lets you, a telling softness in his own eyes.

 

“Lose the suit,” you sniff. For all the comfort and love Tony gives you, he’s never been one to deal well with sentimentality. 

 

“If you insist.” He replies. The suit clicks a few times and a low hiss rolls through the hall as it opens. Tony steps out and you throw yourself at him, your breath rushing out as his arms lock around you again, this time blessedly soft and human.

 

“I was so scared.” You press your face to his neck and inhale, shivering when you find the scent of him beneath the acrid scents of battle.

 

“I -” Tony cuts off and you look up at him. He glances away, blinking fast, and you take gentle hold of his chin to turn his face towards you once more. 

 

“You came home and that’s what matters.” You say. Tony nods, forcing a smile through the tension pulling at his features.

 

He surges forward, throwing you off balance and forcing your hand around to the back of his head as he slants his mouth over yours. His tongue flicks against your lips and you part them without thinking, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls you tight against his body. You can feel his cock stir against your leg and frown, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

 

“Tony, what’s going on?” You run your fingers through his hair, careful of the bruises mottling half his head.

 

“I’ve spent the last two weeks up to my neck in machinery and paperwork.” He captures your lips again but only long enough to steal your breath away. “And then today I was falling through the air, not sure if the impact gear would hold and the only thing I could think was that I had barely touched you in weeks.” 

 

You’d been asleep when he left for the mission that morning, waking up to find a tablet on his side of the bed loaded with a message letting you know where he’d gone. It had stung but was something you had to get used to when you loved Tony Stark. 

 

“Are you sure you’re not too hurt to-”

 

Tony’s teeth nip roughly at your collarbone and you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair. 

 

“I could be in a body cast and I’d want this,” he murmurs. His lips move up your neck, nipping and tasting their way to the sweet spot just behind your ear. You nod, arms tightening around him as his hands run to your hips. He breaks contact with your neck just shy of his goal and squats down, grabbing hold of your thighs. Your cry of surprise echoes off the walls as Tony lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you the few feet from the hall to the living room and drops you on the couch. 

 

You push up onto your elbows and and watch as Tony pulls his shirt up over his head, revealing a constellation of bruises across most of his torso. A sound of pity catches in the back of your throat and Tony looks at you, the softness in his gaze going hard as his eyes travel down your body. He leans over you and hooks his fingers in the waist of the loose pants you’d left on when you rolled out of bed this morning. They offer him no resistance as he tugs them down your legs and you lift your hips to make it easier on him. Your underwear are plain cotton but the way Tony looks at you makes them feel like the finest silk or lace. Or leather. 

 

“Sit up,” he murmurs. You obey, core tightening as you come up off your elbows. Tony pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it somewhere further into the room. A grin lights his face when he finds nothing beneath the shirt by your naked form.

 

“Lose the pants.” You lean forward and tug at the waist of the tight pants Tony had taken to wearing inside the suit. Tony steps closer, fingers closing over yours as you tug the pants down. 

 

His cock springs free of the waist and you roll onto your knees, lips sliding over his flesh before he can do anything more than groan. You can imagine him above you, head thrown back, as his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head. He hisses something that sounds so close to your name that you almost pull your lips from his cock but his fingers tighten against the back of your head and you slide back down his length, your head bobbing at a steady pace. You suck, tongue alternating between teasing the delicate line beneath his head and cradling his length when you take him to the back of your throat. His cock twitches between you lips and the sensation sends a tight rush of warmth to your core, fueling the slick need between your thighs. You slip one hand between your legs and moan around Tony’s cock. He breathes in sharply and you suck harder, your thumb pressed to your clit as you roll it in maddening circles. You push yourself as close to the edge as you can then slide your hand lower, thighs quivering as the ache in your body twists and dims. 

 

You’ve barely traced your lips with your fingertips when Tony pulls back, his hands going to your shoulders. 

 

“Lie back for me,” he growls. You grin and twist onto your back, shifting until Tony has the room to lay over you, his hips between your thighs. HIs teeth find your neck again and this time you take his head in your hands, guiding his mouth exactly where you want it. He groans against your skin, hips pressing down to grind his length against your slit. He nuzzles your neck then scrapes his teeth against your skin, one hand moving down to grasp the base of his cock while the other pulls your thigh further up his hip. The head of his cock nudges against your lips as his teeth sink into the sweet spot of your neck with just the right amount of pressure. You gasp, hips bucking up and driving him between your folds and into your depths. You’re briefly grateful for the pills tucked into your bedside table, but the thought doesn’t last long. 

 

Both of Tony’s hands go to your thighs, pulling them high on his waist as he pulls you further beneath him. The new angle gives him complete control over the depths of his thrusts and he sinks himself to the base, eyes rolling back in his head as he moans. 

 

“Never again,” he mumbles, then grins down at you. “Never going that long without you again.” Your answering grin is all he needs before his mouth covers yours, tongue slipping against yours as he draws back from you just to bury himself once more. The rhythm is slow and deliberate but the force of his movements reveals just how badly he wants to lose his control. You clamp around him, rolling your body to coax him over the edge. It takes a few thrusts but soon you have him growling into your neck as his resolve breaks and his hips slam against you. Your thighs tighten around his waist and your back arches, pleasure burning up your spine.

 

You roll your hips up to meet him, thrust for thrust, and each time drives your arousal higher. Tony’s skin seems to burn against yours and you whimper his name as you feel his body tighten against itself. The sensation brings the ache between your legs to a painful peak as Tony wraps his arms around you.

 

“Cum for me,” he pants. “Cum with me.” He rumbles the words into your neck.

 

You come undone, screaming his name as your arms and, legs, and body lock around him, holding him to you as he growls into your shoulder, riding his own release. Everything is hot and wet and aching and for long breathless moments nothing exists for you outside of Tony’s body inside of yours, over yours. The feeling of him surrounds you and after the hell of uncertainty earlier that day it is a mind-numbing kind of bliss.

 

Everything is out of focus as your breath stutters back into your lungs. You don’t remember letting him go or the sensation of his body slipping from yours but when you finally find him he’s coming back from the bedroom, a blanket in his arms. He tugs you to your feet, eyes heavy with exhaustion and pleasure as he wraps the blanket around you and lifts you into his arms, carrying you up the stairs and down the hall to your room. He doesn’t smell like battle any more. He smells like you and him and sex, and you tug him down into the bed with you after he sets you down. You wriggle out of the blanket and pull him underneath it with you, shutting out the world as you curl back into his body.

 

“Just a minute,” he mumbles. “We’ll rest for just a minute and... and then...” His words trail into silence as his breathing deepens. You open your eyes just long enough to find that his are closed, his muscles relaxing into a post-battle, post-coital exhaustion. Your body aches to follow him and you close your eyes, pressing closer until he wraps his arms around you. His heart beats against yours as the black of sleep drifts across your mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the song "Mercy" by Hurts


End file.
